The Winter of Our Discontent
by PapayaWhip
Summary: Laine can't stay away...
1. Chapter 1

_If you recognise a character, it's Ann M Martin's. If you don't recognise a character, it's either mine or you haven't read enough BSC books._

* * *

Laine Cummings was sipping a Watermelon Guava smoothie, perusing old books outside a second hand book store and generally just minding her own business when Sam Thomas was literally thrust upon her. 

His sneaker's shoelace had been his undoing. He threw his arms out in front of himself as he fell, almost tackling her to the ground in the process. They corrected themselves and Sam offered hasty apologises that died abruptly when he recognised her.

"Lainey," he whispered. She had both loved and hated to hear him call her Lainey.

She was silently stony. A tiny voice in the back of her head reminded her that she had no reason to be angry with him – _she _was the one who'd done the wrong thing – but fortunately, that voice was too small to carry much weight. Finally, Sam sighed, turned away. She remained rigid as she watched him disappear around a corner.

She wanted to chase after him. She never wanted to see him again.

_One of the maids has placed the wrong centrepiece in the middle of the table. Laine corrects the mistake hastily, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure her mother hasn't seen. Mrs Cummings is nowhere to be found and Laine breathes a small sigh of relief. Crisis averted._

_Laine is fifteen and this is the first of her parent's dinner parties that she has been allowed to attend. It is a big deal for Laine, akin to her first bra or her first drink. She knows that the night will be a practice run for the life she is to inherit._

_Guests arrive and she greets them graciously, taking coats and offering glasses of champagne. She takes a glass for herself and sips it by the living room window, looking out at New York City in all its glory. She is wearing a black Versace cocktail dress – "Baby's first Versace," her mother had wept emotionally when they'd purchased the gown – and her grandmother's pearls. She feels beautiful and proud, like she is capable of taking on the entire city._

"_Ed!" Her fathers booming voice floats into the room. Laine raises her eyebrows with mild surprise. Only one person can bring out that creeping note of gratitude in Mr Cummings voice - Edward McGill. And it's been a long time since any of the McGill's have stepped foot inside the Cummings apartment._

"_Stacey, so good to see you!" Laine's head whips around. Craning her neck, she is just able to see her former best friend in the foyer. She's a lot taller than Laine remembers, and her previously permed hair is short and straight ("Great minds," Laine thinks with amusement as she touches her own now-straight hair.)_

_Laine guzzles the last of her champagne and moves into the foyer._

_She and Stacey eye each other warily. They haven't spoken since Laine's disastrous trip to Connecticut. Not verbally, anyway. Laine had written an apology letter several months afterwards, penning a rough draft before committing anything to stationary, desperate to find the right mix of words to properly express her regret._

_In the end, she had only needed seven:_

_Dear Stacey,__ I'm so sorry. __Love, Laine._

_Stacey had never replied._

_There is a third person with them, a tall, attractive guy who looks a few years older than Stacey. He is introduced to Laine and her father as Sam Thomas, Stacey's boyfriend. Laine had listened to Stacey babble about Sam throughout eighth grade and now she understands why._

_Mr Cummings and Mr McGill decide to 'leave the kids alone to talk'. Sam offers to get drinks and Stacey and Laine are alone for the first time in two years._

_Conversation is attempted tentatively, with the same hesitance as one summoning the courage to plunge into icy waters. A few glasses of champagne take the edge off and by the time they are called in for dinner, they are laughing like old friends._

_Later, as the party becomes more rambunctious (or as rambunctious as a Manhattan society dinner party will allow), Laine sneaks into her fathers study and fixes herself a scotch._

"_Can you make me one of those?" a voice from behind queries. Laine spins around and finds Sam sprawled out on her fathers couch._

"_The scene out there isn't for me," he says, addressing her quizzical look. "So… how about that drink?"_

_She pours another drink and they clink their glasses in a toast. He studies her seriously as they sip the fiery liquid. Her face reddens. She tells herself it's a result of the booze._

"_What?" she finally asks when the gaze becomes too much._

"_You're…" He pauses, searching for the right word. Laine suspects he will say 'beautiful' or 'sexy' or one of a million clichéd adjectives that have been used to describe her. She is surprised with his choice._

"…_Interesting."_

_She doesn't get a chance to question him. Mr McGill is calling out, announcing that they are about to leave. Sam downs his drink and leaves._

_Had he winked at her? Yes, she thinks, uncomfortably pleased. He had definitely winked at her._


	2. Chapter 2

_Teeny, tiny little sex scene ahead. Just a warning._

* * *

She arrived home to find a postcard from her boyfriend. Laine had a vast collection of postcards that he had sent her from all around the world. This one was from Paris. The sentiments were generic; having a great time, wish you were here. Blah blah blah. She threw the postcard down with a sigh. Peter Sutton was not exactly the most romantic guy she knew. 

She supposed she would end up marrying him. Her parents would like that, especially her father. It would be good for business. She was only eighteen, much too young (in her opinion) to be thinking about marriage, but two of her high school girlfriends were already engaged and her mother had began making not so subtle hints.

Janice Peterson had been carded at her engagement party. The irony both amused and depressed Laine.

It wouldn't be all bad, she tried to convince herself. Peter was a good guy, smart and thoughtful enough, and he didn't get wasted every weekend like some of her friend's boyfriends. Sure, the sex was mind-numbingly dull, but it wasn't like she had much basis for comparison.

She'd only ever been with one other person.

_They've had a fight, she and Peter, a petty disagreement that had raged out of control. Laine can barely remember why she is so angry, but she knows that she will never forgive him._

_She wanders around the city for an hour, staking out all the old hang outs she used to haunt. Sometimes, re-visiting her childhood makes her feel better. This time, it only reminds her of how complicated her life has become._

_A familiar figure exits the Starbucks across the street and Laine calls out to him. She worries that he won't remember her, but he smiles and trots over to greet her._

"_Sam," she sighs happily. He isn't Stacey (times like this remind Laine of how much she misses Stacey, how much she needs her) but he is the next best thing and when he folds his arms around her in a greeting hug, she sinks into his chest. She would be perfectly content to stay there forever._

_Eventually, she pulls away. His arms remain around her. When she looks up at him, he notices her bright, angry eyes._

"_Hey, what's up?" he asks kindly. She bursts into tears._

_Sam shepherds her into a taxi and takes her back to his hotel room. He is in town with his older brother, he tells her as they settle down onto the couch. Charlie's visiting his girlfriend, he adds, and will be gone all day. It could have been an afterthought, only his tone is too casual._

_They raid the mini-bar. Sam doesn't mention her outburst and Laine is grateful. She hates tears, hates showing emotion. She likes to think that she is stronger than that._

_Outside, a light dusting of snow is beginning to fall. Inside is warm, almost tropical. Laine begins to peel away her layers, removing everything but her jeans and singlet top. She remembers too late that she isn't wearing a bra._

_Sam's eyes travel the length of her body, lingering over her nearly exposed breasts. Her heart races. They move towards each other._

_Then they are kissing, their lips meeting passionately and messily, their bodies pressed together firmly. Urgently. Laine wants this more than she has ever wanted anything in her life, except maybe her old best friend. Stacey is at the back of her mind, gnawing guiltily at her conscience. She assures herself that Sam and Stacey have broken up. Sam wouldn't be doing this is he had a girlfriend. Would he? She considers asking him. She should ask him._

_She doesn't ask him._

_His hands are under her top, gently squeezing her breasts. His thumbs knead her nipples and she gasps audibly. She had never imagined there could be so much pleasure in this world._

_They stumble into his bedroom and remove their clothes impatiently. She feels raw and moves to cover her nakedness, but he pushes her hand away. She glimpses undisguised devotion in his eyes and understands with almost prophetic awareness that she will never feel quite as desired ever again._

_Laine leaves afterwards. She is afraid that if she hangs around, Sam will do something to knock himself off the pedestal she has placed him upon. She catches a cab to Peter's place and they make up. She feels no guilt over what she has done, only a strange, contented satisfaction. She supposes that the incident is further preparation for the life ahead of her._

_A handwritten letter awaits her at home. She instantly recognises the typewriter a's and the small hearts dotting the i's, and tears the envelope open eagerly._

_Dear Laine, __I forgive you. __Love, Stacey._


	3. Chapter 3

Memories were funny things, Laine realised. They were all connected. She couldn't examine one without a dozen others emerging.

_Laine is packing her suitcase for a weekend in the Hampton's when the phone rings. Peter is taking her away for her sixteenth birthday. They will probably sleep together for the first time. Laine has almost convinced herself that she is still a virgin._

_She snatches up the received impatiently. "Yes?" she snaps._

"_Laine? It's Stacey."_

_Her knee buckles slightly. Stacey knows, Stacey knows! a panicky inner voice cries. She falls back on her bed._

_But Stacey doesn't know. Stacey has other things on her mind. Stacey is pregnant and she wants to… take care of things in New York._

_Stacey is near hysteria and Laine agrees to help her abort Sam's baby._

Laine closed her eyes briefly, willing the barrage to stop. She thought she had buried all those recollections. The Persistence of Memory… that was the name of Salvador Dali's most famous painting, wasn't it?

Melting clocks or no melting clocks, Dali sure knew what he was talking about.

_Laine is walking home after a particularly gruelling school day. She has thrown herself into junior year, as though being on student council and arranging school dances will redeem her from her past._

_Different Starbucks, same familiar figure… Déjà vu, Laine thinks dully. Or Fate?_

_He tells her he came looking for her. He tells her that he went to the Dakota but the doorman wouldn't let him leave a message. He tells her that he can't stop thinking about her._

_She wants to ask him if he knows about the abortion. She doesn't. She does, however, agree to meet him the next day._

The harsh jangle of the phone was a welcome relief. She clutched the receiver tightly. "Hello?"

"Lainey."

She can't do this.

"Meet me at Central Park."

No. No. No.

"Yes."

Spring was almost over and winter was making itself known early. Laine threw on an old coat and stepped out into the cold afternoon. As she made her way to the park, she recalled winters past; her secret fling with Sam last winter and losing her virginity to him the winter before that. She wondered what this winter would bring.

The whole thing was completely ludicrous, she realised that. She had risked losing everything for this guy - Stacey, Peter, her entire future. The life of a Manhattan socialite no longer held the allure it once did but Laine had been in training for so long that she couldn't even consider another life.

Besides, what would her parents say? She was sure they would disown her if she brought someone like Sam Thomas home. And she couldn't feel bitter about that. Wasn't this the life she had chosen?

She knew how much rested on her shoulders. Her parent's circle of friends was so tight and so narrow minded. Laine was an asset to her parents, with her high society boyfriend and bright prospects. Sam's stepfather may be a millionaire, but he wasn't connected like Peter's father. The idea of marrying someone unconnected was anathema to the inner circle.

She had enjoyed the perks of an upper crust life for eighteen years, and now it was time for her to sacrifice something.

Laine reached Central Park and kept on walking.


End file.
